


Get-Back Stare

by ahimsabitches



Category: Hellboy (2019)
Genre: (somewhat) rough sex, F/M, Fingering, Leather Kink, Sex In An Office, no leather jackets were harmed in the making of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahimsabitches/pseuds/ahimsabitches
Summary: Done for a prompt on Tumblr: Hellboy having a thing for his S/O wearing leather.
Relationships: Hellboy/female reader
Kudos: 19





	Get-Back Stare

The tight leather miniskirt isn’t the most comfortable thing you own by a long stretch. The big black boots and high-cropped biker jacket you have on kind of make you feel like a badass, though, so it cancels out. You stroll down the main hall at the BPRD, trying not to make it a strut but trying _to_ at the same time. You’ve been seeing Hellboy for a few months now, and well, if he can walk around in leather and big stompy boots, so can you.

You can’t _wait_ for him to see you; you’ve even done your makeup in reds and blacks to match him.

Professor Broom steps out of an office in front of you and you nod at him. His salt-and-pepper eyebrows almost launch off his forehead as he catches sight of you, and you swear you can hear his neck creaking as he turns to watch you walk away. You turn just enough for him to see the corner of your smile, and keep walking toward Hellboy’s room. Your _boyfriend’s_ room.

Another door along the hall slams open and Hellboy storms out. He catches sight of you, and the thunderously angry expression on his face falls into an open-mouthed O of surprise. “…Holy crap. Y/N?”

“Hey,” you say. “I know I’m a little early. I could wait in your r–”

Before you can finish, Hellboy lunges forward and clamps his hand on your forearm. It’s not his stone hand but it still _hurts_ a little because his grip is _strong_ and your feet almost leave the ground as he hauls you further down the hall. Once you regain your balance you have to jog to keep up with his ground-eating strides.

“Whoa, hey, what the hell! Is there something wrong?” you ask. Instead of answering, he yanks you into an empty office down the hall, barely out of sight of the one he’d just left. He shuts the door and for an instant you feel like a small prey animal caught in the two falcon-sharp yellow bores of his eyes.

Then he flicks the switch and fluorescent light floods the room. You barely get your hand up to shield your eyes before Hellboy is on you, hands pawing at you and gripping you. He pushes you across the room. Your ass collides with an office chair and sends it spinning. Before you hit the back wall, Hellboy hooks his hands under your thighs, right at your ass, and hikes you into the air. Your leather skirt is tight with only a small slit, so it rides all the way up as your legs wrap around Hellboy’s hips. He jams you against the wall and holds you there with the pressure of his own body, crushing your mouth with a kiss.

_It must have been a_ really _shitty meeting_ , you think to yourself. Hellboy breaks the kiss, panting, and draws back for a good look at you.

“I’m glad to see you too,” you say breathlessly. “Never seen you this…uh. Eager before.”

“Never seen you in this outfit before, babe. Shit. I didn’t recognize you at first.”

You giggle and wiggle against him a little. He catches his breath. Both of you are aware that there’s only his zipper and your silk underwear between a fuck that you both want, judging by the bulge you can feel pressing against your pussy. “So you like it?”

Hellboy bends down to your neck and grinds his cock against you. “It makes me wanna fuck your brains out.”

The rutting-animal sound of his voice, the lustful heat of it, runs right down your spine and makes your belly swoop pleasantly. You’re unable to stifle a soft, shivery whimper as Hellboy reaches down between your legs, nudges your panties aside, and slips a finger into your pussy. “God I fuckin’ _love_ how wet you get for me,” he says, his voice husky with need. You can feel the sound rumbling in his chest. “Just for me. Just for me, baby, right?” He slides another finger in, all the way, and begins to finger you slow and deep.

You gasp and writhe against his chest. “Yeah, babe,” you pant. “Just for you.”

He rumbles approval and kisses along your jawline, then down over your neck. With his stone hand he pulls the stiff collar of your leather jacket away from your neck. The leather creaks and strains in his grip but you don’t care. You roll your head to the side to give him better access to the precious flesh of your neck and the thick vein fluttering just beneath the skin. His skin is always warm, but the inside of him, his mouth and tongue, is hot enough to nearly burn you, and you love it. He bites down, gently, but even that is enough to draw a throaty moan out of you and make you reflexively squeeze your thighs around his hips and utter a breathy scream. He angles his fingers differently, like you’d shown him, and when he thrusts in again the jolt to your G-spot almost makes you go cross-eyed. You hadn’t ever been able to come from a man finger-fucking you until Hellboy and his massive paws. He only has to thrust a few more times before you feel the orgasm gathering in your belly.

“Oh god, HB,” you croak, unable to say much else. 

“Mmmm, is that good, baby? You close?” Hellboy’s voice is deep and raspy in your ear.

“Yeah,” you say.

“Good.”

Then he straightens and pulls his fingers out of you.

“…Huh?” you ask. In reply, he eases you down to the floor and steadies you with his stone hand when you wobble on your feet. “I gotcha, baby,” he purrs. You feel something brushing your inner thigh and you take it for Hellboy’s hand at first, but his stone hand is by his side and his living hand is busy at the buckle of his belt. You glance down. His tail is burrowing curiously up under your skirt to your panties. You giggle; you’re used to him using it to hold you down or tickle you, but never to help him undress you. His tail pulls your panties down and you step out of them while Hellboy grabs the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss.

Your hands roam over the thick knots of muscle stacked on his frame, and you’re reminded of what a powerful man he is. You feel it in his body, in the deep rasp in his voice and the greedy, burning grip of his battle-hardened hands.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask when he breaks the kiss. His belt jingles. You feel a soft rush of air around your ankles as his pants drop to the floor.

“So I could do _this_ ,” he growls, hoists you into the air again, and sits you down on his cock. You squeal with surprise and delight as his thick cock fills you up all the way; he groans like an idling 18-wheeler as your pussy swallows every inch of him. “Ohhhhhh _yeah_ , baby, _fuck,_ you’re so tight. Goddamn.”

You giggle breathlessly. “And you’re really _big.”_

Hellboy growls a chuckle and begins to bounce you on his cock. It _is_ big, and you both learned early on what to do to get you ready to take it. Which was how you learned how good Hellboy looked with his head between your legs, his yellow eyes framed by the V of your thighs. The memory makes the orgasm, which had faded a little when Hellboy stopped fingering you, roar back to life. You latch onto his collar and wrap your legs tighter around his hips to help him thrust.

“Now that I know you own this little leather skirt,” Hellboy murmurs– the strike of his palm against the thin leather is loud in the empty room; you yelp and feel the sizzling sting on your ass in the shape of his hand– “you’re going to wear it a lot. But you’re only going to wear it for _me.”_ He grabs a fistful of your hair and holds it tight enough to hurt, but not too much to distract from his hot words in your ear. “You got it?”

You cling to him and pant, everything he does only making you want him— _need_ him– more. “Yeah. Only for you, baby. Whenever you want.”

“That’s right, baby. You’re such a good girl. Whenever. I. Want.” 

He punctuates each word with a punishing thrust which drives pulses of pleasure/pain deep into you. You feel the orgasm gathering deep and low in your belly. “Oh god, oh _god, oh god,”_ you gasp in time with his thrusts.

He grins. None of his teeth are sharp; all the predatory lust and vicious desire is in his burning eyes, which he locks with yours. “Yeah, baby, that’s it, come for me. Come on my cock.” He thrusts harder and deeper, grinding his cock against your G-spot. “Lemme feel you come. Lemme _see_ it, come on.”

The orgasm slams into you like a detonation; your back snaps into a rigid arch and your body shakes in wave after wave of pleasure. Your pussy clenches around Hellboy’s cock and you think he makes a noise but you can’t hear it over the sound of your own body overtaken.

Hellboy keeps thrusting, slower and gentler now, which makes the orgasm fade in pulses. You sag back against the wall he’s fucking you against, breathless, your body humming pleasantly like an idle powerline.

“ _God_ you look so good when you come, baby,” Hellboy rumbles and kisses you.

“Mmm. Did you come yet?” You ask.

“No. I wanna come on your skirt.”

You pause, wondering if you actually heard him right. “You wanna come _where_?”

“If it’s okay, of course,” Hellboy says, his voice and eyes softening. He stops thrusting.

You lift an eyebrow at him, holding you there against the wall, his hot thick cock in your pussy, looking almost… bashful?

“You _really_ like girls in leather, don’t you?” you ask.

“I liked ‘em fine before, but when I saw you strutting down the hall in this,” he glances down at your jacket and skirt, “I…kinda lost my mind.”

“You sure _did_ ,” you chuckle. “In the best way possible.”

“The jacket looks really expensive, so that’s why I said the skirt. If you don’t wan–”

You shut him up with a hard, deep kiss. His cock pulses inside you and you giggle into his mouth. “Fine. But you’re paying for it to be cleaned.”

Hellboy chuckles. “Deal.” He rears back from the wall, pressing you close to his chest with his stone arm, and, still inside you, he walks you both to a nearby desk. The only things on it are a cup with a single pen and an ancient phone. He swipes these off the desk and lays you back. You arch your back prettily and raise your arms over your head, inviting him to touch you. Your jacket rucks up and makes little leather wings by your ribs. Hellboy shoves his living hand up under your shirt and squeezes one tit. It fits well in his hand. He gazes down at you like you’re a five-course meal and he hasn’t eaten in a week.

You squirm, grinding on his cock. “Well?”

This time, his grin shows more teeth. “Just enjoyin’ the view.” He grabs the swell of your hips and begins to fuck you again. The new, deeper angle hits your G-spot even better now and there’s just enough afterglow from the first orgasm to work into a new one, if your skirt hasn’t delivered too deadly a blow to Hellboy’s stamina.

“Oh _fuck yeah_ ,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.” Hellboy only growls in response. You angle your hips up a bit, which does the trick. “Oh _yeah,_ baby, you’re gonna make me come again,” you whimper.

“Fuck, baby, I’m close,” Hellboy rasps, his face slack with lust and his eyes nearly closed.

“Think about baseball. Count backwards from one hundred. Just a little more, please, _please,_ HB…”

“Okay, _okay,_ ” he growls and takes a deep breath.

Sweat beads around the huge shorn knobs of his horns and runs down his temples. His hair swings by his face in twin black curtains. You swear you can almost _see_ his breath rush out of his mouth in bullish clouds. He never slows his pace, but you can feel his efforts at containing his orgasm in the trembling tightness of his grip on your thighs. With your hips angled like they are, it doesn’t take the second orgasm long to blast through you. You scream Hellboy’s name as you come, and only seconds later he curses and screams yours. He yanks himself backward enough to pull his cock out of your pussy and, bellowing above you like one of the beasts he hunts, he pumps his cock out over you. Thick, pearly rills of come land on your skirt and belly. You count them: one, two, three, four, … _five, …six?_

“Damn,” he says, his broad chest heaving. “That was…incredible.” He sways above you and catches himself by planting his stone arm down on the desk beside your head. You glance down at his cock. It’s still halfway hard, so you reach down and gently massage the last drop out onto your thumb. Hellboy coughs a groan as the motion triggers an aftershock. You meet his eyes and lick the come off your thumb. Hellboy’s eyebrows climb up his forehead.

“Yeah it was,” you purr, full of afterglow, loving the way his half-smile and his half-lidded eyes make him look.

They make him look downright _cuddly_ , and Hellboy’s never cuddly around anybody but you.

Suddenly, you want to do nothing but get out of the clothes you’re in and lie in bed with him, skin to warm red skin. But before you can do that…

“Grab a tissue?” You ask, and glance down at the puddle of come on your belly.

“Oh, shit, right,” Hellboy reels across the office to the desk against the opposite wall and comes back with a box of Kleenex. You clean yourself as best you can, but there’s still a pale spot on the front of your skirt and a wet spot on the bottom of your shirt that the leather jacket is too short to cover.

“Hm. That’ll show,” you muse aloud, thinking if you took off your shirt and zipped up your jacket that would solve _one_ problem–

“No it won’t,” Hellboy says, and suddenly a weight is draped over your shoulders. It’s his great brown coat, which hangs on you like a sail.

You shoot him an amused glance which turns into a long stare. A den of lust the dusty, sterile office is _not,_ but even the tiredly flickering fluorescent bars overhead can’t totally rob Hellboy of his charm, standing naked and disheveled in the middle of the room. You can’t help a moony smile.

“Just wrap that around you for as long as it takes us to walk to my room,” he says and steps into his pants. His left leg gets caught on his belt. You giggle as he mutters curses and hops in place, his tail twitching irritably. Once he gets his pants straightened out, he gathers you up into a long, sweet kiss. “And when we get there, we’re going to try to beat our record,” he purrs, his voice honey and smoke. The light in his eyes sends a shiver down your spine.

“If this is what happens when I wear leather,” you say, “I’m never taking it off.”

“Ooh, don’t tempt me.” Hellboy chuckles, sweeps you into his arms, and carries you out of the room.


End file.
